by winter his wings are no more
by Lost Wayfarer
Summary: Castiel is losing what makes him an angel and desperately trying to deny it. Dean just wants him to accept it. (Or that's what he will tell himself every night.) / written before the season 8 finale


_takes place before the season 8 finale, dunno how much  
_

_I don't own Supernatural_

* * *

When Dean looks back at it, he likes to think it started when he decided to say yes to Michael and Castiel beat the living hell out of him for that. But in reality it's not that simple, because nothing is ever that simple. He actually just likes to think that it wasn't his fault that they are in this situation now.

But really, it is. It is just as much his fault as it is Castiel's.

(At times he even feels like it's more on him than Castiel.)

The thing is, like Castiel himself put it, the angel's people skills are rusty. Expect that rusty won't even begin to describe it. It's more like his people skills are the most wretched thing Dean has ever run into, and when something is more wretched than anything a hunter has dealt with, it's better to stay away from the thing.

(Easy to say, hard to do.)

Actually it all started with simple pity. Castiel was only a shell of the angel he had been when he had walked into that stupid barn where Dean had summoned him for the first time ever, and even though Bobby, Dean and Sam quietly agreed that it's definately a good thing, considering what angels usually are, Castiel himself was so crestfallen and desperate over becoming more and more human with every passing day, that Dean had took great pity over him. He wanted to make him accept it and teach him to like being human.

It all started with pity. A simple feeling, or at least relatively so. Castiel was broken, he wanted to fix him like the angel had done to him. He simply wanted to return the favor.

But who would've known that Castiel would become so difficult?

(Of course he understands. It's not like he blames Castiel for that.)

Before all that, their interaction consisted mostly of some kind of staring contests, Dean trying to see what was behind the blue, the fake humanity and sincere confusion, Castiel trying to see into Dean's soul through his green eyes.

Now their interaction always goes just like it is going tonight.

Dean is holding Castiel against the kitchen wall, looming over him. His forearm is pushing against the angel's neck, forcing his chin up and his other hand has pinned Castiel's both wrists between their chests. He doesn't really understand how he is even able to keep the other in place yet alone hurt him in any way, but Castiel's left eye is swollen and the skin on his right cheekbone is cut. He struggles and looks increasingly frustated and Dean can't help but laugh.

"Time to start working on that screwny body you stole, Cas", he sneers. "Looks like it's just your mind and Jimmy in there."

(It's cruel, but he doesn't care.)

With what feels like the last remains of Castiel's angel strenght the man shoves Dean off and decks him before he even has a chance to protect himself. There's still the inhuman speed left, but the hits hardly hurt.

In a second Castiel is behind him and a kick lands on his lower back. He doesn't even flinch and laughs as he turns quickly, grabbing the other's leg that is still in the air and flips the angel on his back on the floor and _that sure gotta hurt._

"Be fucking thankful Jimmy had enough guts to command you out of his little girl", Dean spits out, hoping that the poor human is not listening anymore.

But Castiel is up on his feet again and attacks with even more determination than before, so much anger deep inside the blue eyes that it really throws Dean off guard.

How the did Castiel produce the angel blade so suddenly? Dean certainly doesn't know, but he doesn't put much thought to it either: he's on the floor and the blade is pressing against his throath now, and even though Castiel hasn't ever even tried to kill him, his pulse still kicks up and his breathing comes in short gasps.

(This isn't the first time this has happened, either. And still it coaxes the exact same reaction from the hunter.)

The shadow of Castiel's wings is faded and flickers like ghosts sometimes do, but it's still there on the roof. The room itself is dark but Castiel seems to be glowing slightly.

"Don't you dare to suggest that my powers might be fading", the angel growls deep in his throath and Dean gulps down something that tastes suspiciously like a disgusting version of the sandwich he ate half-an-hour ago. He wants to drop the bomb, tell Castiel that if he needs to _eat_ and _breathe _and fucking _pee_, then his angel mojo is as good as long gone, but he doesn't, like he never does. It's always tad-a-bit too late since he only wants to say it when it gets to this point and Castiel is threathening him, usually with some kind of a pointy object.

_Four, three, two, _he counts.

He doesn't even reach one when Castiel already passes out and he has to quickly hold the angel up so that the razor-sharp blade wouldn't cut into his Adam's apple.

"Sonovabitch", he grunts as he removes the blade and throws Castiel needlessly roughly off him. Why can't the weapon just become blunt along with the angel's Grace? He stands up and leaves the other on the floor. "No matter how hard you try to prove your mojo's still there, you're nothing but a human with an odd shadow and glow-in-the-dark -skin."

He could kick the unconscious man to release some frustation, but he doesn't like hurting Castiel, not really. He feels bad when he does: he never stopped feeling sorry for Jimmy Novak.


End file.
